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Three years ago I embarked upon a wildly ambitious project. As an aspiring player I’d read Neil Strauss’s famous memoir The Game in which he describes his entry into the underground world of pick up artists. Reading those pages I felt like I was along for the ride, living the successes and failures with Neil. It’s a good book.

Unfortunately, it’s also a bit light. In order to squeeze everything into a single volume to sit on a bookstore shelf, Neil packed a long timescale into few pages. By necessity, he skips over so many things that I had wanted to read about in detail. It felt like eating a chocolate bar when my stomach rumbled for a three course meal. FRUSTRATING!

What I would have liked was more detail.

– How exactly did he meet these girls and how did the dates go?

– What was it like to deal with anxiety and self-doubt on a daily basis?

– How did he deal with women he actually succeeded with?

It’s one thing to simply tell a good story. I also wanted to learn. I looked around and tried many books but none were able to walk me through the Player’s Journey in real live detail, red in tooth and claw.

Fortunately for you scamps – Enter the Nick Krauser Memoirs!

THE BOOK

By mid-2014 I’d achieved all my goals in Game. I’d been hitting on girls for six years straight, learning, improving and ultimately writing best-in-class material on how to daygame. Now I wanted to tell my story. I didn’t want to perform a victory lap, telling everyone how awesome I am (though I’ll admit that’s highly tempting….)

..I wanted to write a memoir that would help my fellow players improve.

..I wanted to write a book rich with detail, depth and above all wisdom.

..I wanted to chart the Player’s Journey so every man following in my steps knew exactly where to go and exactly what to expect.

This was a wildly ambitious project, to write however much needed to be written to convey my knowledge. To write until it was done – however many pages it took to get there. The Nick Krauser memoir is neither a cash-in nor a victory lap. My vision was to plant my flag, to blaze a trail and leave a map for other men to follow.

Because it’s not all fun and games. It’s a tough path to follow.

WHY YOU NEED TO READ THIS BOOK

From my many years coaching students I’ve been shocked at how many men fall by the wayside. It’s no exaggeration to say over 90% of men give up, having cracked under the pressure and fallen short of their goals. NINETY PERCENT!

Those of you who’ve daygamed understand why. You know how it is to trudge through the rainy streets, your mind racing with anxiety and self-doubt, wondering if you’ll ever really make it. You know how it feels to have four dates lined up and then three cancel at short notice. You know how hard the downside hits you. It can sap you of the will to continue.

Believe me, I know how this feels. I lived it.

I know how important it was to have my friends around me, riding the same waves up and down. I could look at their experiences to be inspired by their successes and commiseratedby their failures. It was so very important to have someone next to me, taking the same blows, and we pulled each other forwards.

AN ENTERTAINING INNER GAME BIBLE

A Deplorable Cad isn’t just a story. It isn’t just an entertaining recounting of my sexual escapades. This book isLOADEDwith heartfelt emotion and deep introspection. At every stage of my journey, at every key event, I explore how it made meFEELand how I summoned the willpower to proceed.

Yes, I just said this book is full of FEELZ.

“How gay”, you laugh.

That’s the problem we face as men. You can’t talk about it with your mates. It feels weird, right? And Youtube and websites are full of coaches puffing themselves up like supermen who never suffer self-doubt or fear of failure.

Let’s put that shit to rest right now.

I’m a successful player yet self-doubt and fear of failure kept me company throughout the entirety of my journey. Denying it to your audience doesn’t make it go away. If anything, it hurts your audience, makes them wonder if they are the only people who doubt themselves.

A Deplorable Cad is an inner game book. The next time you struggle – the next time a girl cancels a hot date with no explanation. The next time you see your dream girl glide by, but you just CANNOT approach her no matter what – you will recall that I’ve been through this EXACT experience, and overcome it. You’ll feel the comfort of knowing you’re not the only one.The self doubt will dissipate and you will find the will to push forward.

And you won’t need to have embarrassing confessional sessions with your mates to do it!

I lived this life. My friends lived this life. And now I can take you along for the ride.

I was standing in Levels nightclub in Bangkok with Steve and Jason at around 1am. We’d just finished drinking at Oskars bar down the road, a rather nice place that seemed to attract lots of local women who seemed exceptionally pleased to see us. Having already run the gauntlet of semi-pro hordes in Patong we had their number immediately.

“Fuck this nonsense. Let’s try a club” Steve had declared. So here we were.

The initial signs were good. Nice decor, wide open area, and a quieter outside rooftop bar where the balmy night air blew in. Lots of girls, mostly Thai with a smattering of white girls. Some strong IOIs.

“This doesn’t feel right” I commented. “It feels more like a nightclub scene from a TV show than an actual nightclub”

Steve knows clubs considerably better than I and he agreed. “Probably hookers. Let’s see”. He turned to a trio of girls spilling out of their nice dresses. “Excuse me, are you a whore?” (or words to that effect).

Just imagine his rep points on RooshV Forum

Yes, she was. We noticed another pair of girls at the bar IOIing almost ever man, occasionally even reaching out to touch them as they walked past. Over by the DJ I saw a rather pretty Russian girl showing extreme interest in the conversation of a chubby Indian man who looked like he could star in Big Bang Theory.

“There’s two normal girls” said Jason, pointing out a mediocre blonde girl and her trashy tattooed brunette friend. A seven and a six respectively, if you’re drunk and in a dark club. Both white and not hot enough to be whores.

A big fat Turk came out of the elevator and past security. Middle-aged and sweaty, he looked like Kojak after a decade living rough. The kind of man who has never had free sex in his life. He stood in the middle of the room scanning then made a beeline to the trio of Thai whores Steve had interrogated. A minute later he was back.

Couldn’t help making connection to this great book

I turned my back for less than a minute and when I glanced over again he was talking to the two white girls. Literally three minutes later he led them both out of the club with the “gonna have a threesome” smirk. Needless to say, I did not attribute his success to tight game.

A Russian ex-girlfriend who’d lived in Thailand recently was chatting to me on Facebook. Asking how I was getting on in Bangkok she sent me a listicle of the Thirteen Girls You Date In Thailand. Standing in Levels nightclub I scan the list and when it covers the “sideline girl” (i.e. semi pro) it specifically identifies Levels nightclub.

“Let’s get out of this shit hole” I said. Did I mention there were hardly any Thai men in this club?

We’d been recommended Sugar nightclub down the road [1]. That was 300 baht entry including a free bottle of beer. Early signs where bad as hip hop blasted out of the speakers and I felt like I was living in a mud hut surrounded by African savages. The elevator dumped us in a dark room with strobe lighting. Several rows of small high tables ringed the dancefloor and a line of young white men with hunted eyes stood frozen still watching the Thai girls gyrate clumsily.

Got me looking so crazy right now. Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no

“Lots of two sets flashing their little eyes” said Steve, referring to a half dozen different pairs of girls standing at the tables slowly drinking beer. A large wrap-around sofa booth in the corner was hosting a fat white man, his bottle service, and four thai girls. They were dressed quite nice. Before long a drunk girl from the booth IOId me and I waved her over. She chatted a while but was fucked off her nut and playing the usual attention whore club games. She did tell me a few interesting things.

“I don’t work here” she proclaimed. “I do office job. It’s my friend birthday, she work here” and pointed to one of the girls indulging the fat white guy as he held court around his expensive vodka bottle. My new drunk friend flitted off and started chatting to two girls at a table who she clearly knew.

I began to look around the club with a new eye. Let’s assume every single thai girl here is on the club payroll, even the “patrons”. Within minutes my theory was confirmed. As the glass collector did his rounds these girls would hug him, or slap his arse, or talk freely in exactly the same manner you’d expect if they were there five nights a week because it’s their job.

“This is a Potemkin Club” I told Jason. “It’s all an illusion. The entire business is a carefully staged environment to give men like us the illusion that we are attractive and a grey area to pay for the privilege without feeling like we are just whoring.”

Suddenly half of what I’d seen in Phuket and Bangkok made sense. This wasn’t whoring in the Western model where you strike up a price then bang the pro. Thailand was offering the “girlfriend experience” on a wider level – it wasn’t just the girl bullshitting you that “you handsome man”. The entire nightclub was bullshitting you.

Not bullshit, Patong.

Steve left in disgust and Jason and I left a quarter hour later. Further down the squalid street that is Soi 11, I waited outside a 7/11 while Jason went inside to buy water. A twenty-something Eurochode walked up with his very pretty brown “girlfriend”. As he waited outside, she went inside and flashed me three massive IOIs. [2] The eurochode didn’t seem to notice, fumbling in his beige shorts for a cigarette.

I followed inside thirty seconds later and caught the girl perusing the tuna spread prepared sandwiches in the refrigerator. I waved a hand in front of her face to get attention.

She gently pulled me further out of her sponsor’s line of site then we swapped Line ID contact info. Then I sidled up to Jason at the checkout and completed my exfiltration unnoticed. In Hitman it would be a S-ranked Silent Assassin score.

I banged the girl the next night. For free.

[1] If I ever remember who recommended it, I’ll murder them.[2] I call these UpgradeOIs because it’s semi-pros trying to upgrade the quality of their sugar daddy.

If you liked this anecdote, just wait till you read me when I actually take time and effort to make it good. A Deplorable Cad coming soon!

Regular readers will be aware that I like my hibernations. I consider my style of daygame to be seasonal in that my moods, appetite for skirt, and the weather in Europe means that going full-on all year around is just….. not much fun. So I divide up the year into the following chunks:

December to February – Hibernation. Forget daygame, focus on non-game interests, get work done, try not to get fat [1]

March – Excited to start daygame again and willing to tolerate iffy weather in one of the cities that has reliable flow of girls despite such weather.

April to June – Living the dream in Europe with visits back home between trips.

July and August – Some difficult decision making due to extreme heat and girl’s summer holidays halving the number of cities with good daygame.

September and October – Living the dream again but starting to get tired [2]

November – A last chance to try squeezing a bit more mileage out of the Euro-season in a race against time with the cold, rain and snow coming on.

This pattern suited me but over the past few years an idea has grown until it’s begun gnawing at me. A little voice has been whispering in my ear, like a mischievous squirrel trying to bullshit a bear out of his favourite cave, do you really need to spend Winter in Newcastle? There may be a better place to hibernate.

A siren song, yesterday

I could be escaping the zero degree Newcastle weather, the fat horrible women, the stodgy food, and the depressing multiculturalism of my city centre. Why not spend that time on a beach?

Well, I tried that. I went to Cancun and Chiang Mai in early 2011. I had fun but don’t care to repeat the experience. Crappy girls, third world boring shit. I tried Sao Paulo and Rio De Janiero in early 2012 but came away decided that I hate Brazilians and Brazil [3]. My key learning point from two winters in the third world is that Europe is much much better.

But there’s another reason, whispers Mid-Life Crisis Future Regret Avoidance Planner Squirrel [4], You need to take a closer look at the End Game.
“What End Game?” I replyYou are 41 years old, quite literally middle-aged says MLCFRAPS. Even though you’ll always be able to get young girls, it’ll get harder. Maybe your knees will go after all that walking. Your testosterone will drop and you just won’t have the same enthusiasm to keep chasing skirt. You need to look to the future, at Old Man Game.

Regular readers are no doubt aware of all the various Ex Pat and “Galt Game” forums on teh interwebs. There’s the likes of Naughty Nomad and Roosh V forums. Now, I don’t want to say bad things about these places because there are plenty of good straight-shooting men on there trying to share information and help each other out. Just because I personally dislike forums doesn’t make them a bad thing [5]. I’ve noticed there’s lots of talk on there from men camped out in South East Asia who are using a variety of ways to plunder the local women (allegedly).

As a general rule I don’t believe anything I read on the internet [6]. Nonetheless, it sets me thinking about if there’s anything in that lifestyle. Can a fifty-year old man go out and live in SEA and clack a bunch of hot girls? Can I add another ten years onto my player lifespan this way?

So I headed out to Asia. Bali and then Phuket. Here are my initial thoughts.

I think these are banned from South East Asia

BALI
A waste of time. I was in the Seminyak resort and also spent time in nearby Kuta. In the ten days I was there I didn’t see a single eight. Not one. The western girls were either (i) gross chubby Aussies with bad tattoos and guts, (ii) pretty Europeans with their long term boyfriends. I only saw five or six of the latter. I got a ton of matches on Tinder [7] but after filtering out the hookers and ladyboys there were just grumpy 5s and 6s. I got one of them on a date and in my bed but after molesting her for a while she said she was constipated, hadn’t had a poo in five days, and her body hurt too much to have sex.

That’s just gross. Can you imagine a Moscow girl saying that?

Bali itself is a shithole. Nature is beautiful but everything is broken and dirty, the humidity is oppressive, and there’s nothing to do.

PHUKET
I binned Bali and took a flight to Thailand. After dropping my stuff off at the hotel and showering I went out to a nightclub with Jabba. Well, it’s more like a bar/club and really it’s just a brothel for semi-pros. I grabbed a girl, chatted five minutes and took her down the street to my hotel. On my bed she asked for 1,000 baht so I threw her out. I went back to the club and pulled another girl out. She asked for 1,000 baht on the way, so I went back to club. Then Steve was smooching on with a girl and I noticed her friend was one I’d been chatting to earlier. We all went down to the beach for twenty minutes then they made excuses about having to go home because of work the next day. I took a number. Back to the club and then a fourth girl pretty much jumped me. Five minutes later I took her home. She never asked for money so I fucked her.

Next day we were dead. Hungover.

Day three I had a first date with the girl I’d taken to the beach. Halfway through the first drink I took her to the hotel and fucked her. She never asked for money. Day four an Aussie guy I know SDLd a local from Starbucks. We agreed to go to the cinema to watch the new Underworld movie. The girl invited her friend to join, who showed up midway through the movie and sat down next to me. We had a quick drink in a bar afterwards, the friend was gagging for it, so I took her home and fucked her. She didn’t ask for money.

Four days, three notches. No money paid. Barely even did any game. UPDATE: Make that 5 days, 4 notches.

So my initial impression is that Phuket is a bit better than Bali. I see plenty of hot Euro girls, especially Russians, walking around but they are always – without exception – with their boyfriends. I’m surprised how pretty some of the Thai girls are, especially the best go-go girls, but the Russians put them absolutely to shame.

I still can’t conclude on whether Phuket is a good place for the End Game. It’s a bit Disneyland and doesn’t feel like a real place. Having girls gyrating and shouting at you constantly is rather unnerving. I think it’s just not healthy to know that for 1,000 baht you can fuck almost any girl you see even if they are sitting reading a book in a cafe [8]

My guess is I’ll be sick of this place within a couple of weeks and rather glad that I put all that time into figuring out how to pull Euro girls. In the meantime, I’m having quite a lot of fun.

Difficult to stay interested in this kind of thing

[1] Or more correctly since 2015, fatter.[2] This is when my blog flips schizophrenically between high enthusiasm and Daygame Mediocrity.[3] Except for my very good friend and fellow daygame blogger Suave who is as Brazilian as Romario.[4] I wonder who that phrase sounds like….[5] Although RVF is pure comedy in an unintentional way[6] In fact, now that I think about it, how do I know that this blog post wasn’t just made up by someone on the internet?[7] In itself quite a strange feeling because I never get matches in Europe.[8] Aussie dude didn’t pay, but girl later revealed she actually has a sponsor.

If you enjoyed reading about my no-game successes in Thailand, you probably won’t want to bother with my book. That’s all game. And game is difficult.

I’m delighted to announce the release of my new book Adventure Sex – How To Pick Up The Girls Of The Former Soviet Union. It’s available in paperback now from this Lulu page.

This is the fourth volume in my memoir and my best writing to date. I’ll talk about it more over the coming weeks but let’s hear from a couple of readers. First off here’s Mike, who snapped up a copy on my secret Twitter pre-release a few weeks ago* He gave me lots of unsolicited feedback so I asked him if he’d write a few paragraphs for the blog:

“I found out about Krauser through Eddie from Street Attraction. I got an early copy of Adventure Sex and can say this was the most awe inspiring and lucid book I have read, dealing with a subject that has notoriously confused, and continues to confuse, a majority of people in the world.

You can read theory, keep on navigating your own thoughts and emotions going over “what if’s”… but will that put you in the trenches? Will that get you hordes of women wanting you in their life, telling you openly that they like you and fucking you? Hardly. But Krauser has those hordes doing that and is in those trenches. What Krauser did here is let you borrow his brain through numerous lays, numerous “what if” scenarios… except the difference here is it’s real… no untested theories here. He shows you the battle scars, the fatigue and the glory… even explaining it using evolutionary biology as a guiding reference.

With this book you feel like you’re reading a spy novel full of intrigue and tagging along as an observer. Best of all, the women love him for it. My jaw dropped often, damned myself for misunderstanding failures in the past when I was actually so close to winning, cringed at what this exposes, laughed often and had my social paradigm rattled. I get it now. How many people want a goldmine but don’t know how to dig and don’t know where the mine is? His book showed me how to dig. In my opinion, in the West there is a stigma about being direct and telling a woman you think she’s attractive… compliments are thought of as weak when delivered incorrectly. I mean did your last compliment get you laid or ignored/brushed off? Bluntly, Krauser tells you how to be a man, the authentic you who wants to be direct, but done with social grace. Without the social grace… without understanding what’s really going on with a seduction… you’ll feel worthless (am I right?) because you are totally ignorant to the subtext of the interaction, the woman can’t feel comfortable with it, and you’ll have missed out on getting the tools you needed as a man. 😦

Imagine that woman you like telling you she likes you and really meaning it. Imagine finding out there’s tens of thousands similar to her, always.

Imagine getting the skills embedded into your brain in a way you haven’t experienced yet, that’s going to get you laid with the hottest women in the world… well that part you can’t imagine… but I can! I read the book 🙂

I think he liked it. I also asked one of my test readers Brisey to say a few words:

“Volume 4 details Krausers exploits at the near pinnacle of his game. Beginning with origins of his ‘Project Hollywood’ style London den of iniquity with the various RSG characters then transitioning to his quest to bang younger, hotter, tighter girls throughout the FSU.

It’s wonderfully descriptive, hilarious at times and packed full of game advice with some great examples. You can really see the difference in his level compared to Volume 1. He has you at the edge of your seat wondering if he will smash through the last minute resistance of that 18 year old virgin. The are many moments where you think “How the fuck did he pull that off’.”

Adventure Sex is available in paperback now from Lulu here. It’s 516 pages and 160,000 words of carefully crafted daygame glory.

* I like doing stupid shit like that. It was an 18-hour cryptic announcement. I also launched it on my YouTube channel a week ago, just to see if anyone still pays attention to my ramblings.

** I’m interested to hear all reader feedback so those of you who already bought it, please leave a comment or send me an email.

Every girl has her place on the r/K spectrum, meaning the degree to which she’s amenable to fast casual sex. There are a number of factors which will determine her placement at the time of your approach:

Family background, particularly her relationship with her father and the stability of her parents’ marriage. Generally speaking, the stereotypes are true: divorce or abandonment leads to daddy issues, which leads to more r.

Hormonal make-up. High testosterone means a higher sex drive and a more casual attitude towards sex. The tells for this are longer legs and mannish squarer features, which means more r.

Monthly cycle. A girl’s propensity for fast sex with dangerous cads peaks during the ovulation phase, which is 15-17 days following the beginning of her period. At this stage she feels more sexual, more available, and will subconsciously put herself in situations where sex can happen fast. So, more r.

Current options. If she hasn’t had sex in over a month she is far more likely to be up for it and every additional month makes it more r.

Attitudes on life. Generally speaking a girl who has an adventurous or rebellious attitude on life will also be more r for sex. This means girls who hitch-hike, couchsurf, attend festivals, have visible tattoos, or dress in subcultural fashion are all more likely to be r.

There are other criteria but these are the big ones. So how do you figure out where the girl is on the spectrum? In the beginning, you observe Sherlock Holmes style. Once you’re talking to her you just ask – either directly or through probing. She’ll give away snippets of information and you’ll file them. Here’s an example from an Italian girl I met in Poland.

I’m walking along a shopping street mid-afternoon with Tomas when my spider-sense immediately triggers big-time. A twenty-year old just sauntered past me with a swish of the hips in her walk and wandering eyes. She hadn’t IOI’d me but she had the dreamy look. Her hair was dyed reddish chesnut and she gave off an aura of fertility. I felt like a farmer sizing up an acre of prime land. So I opened. That was the Sherlock Holmes part.

Like this, but drop a point

For the first twenty seconds she didn’t quite understand I was hitting on her but when the penny dropped her eyes sparkled and her face softened. In itself that means attraction rather than an r/K clue but it was still a good sign. The first key verbal information came a couple of minutes in:

“I’m Italian and I’m here on Erasmus”

Score one for the adventurous girl who travels criteria. Also add in that none of her family or long-time friends could be watching her behaviour. After a few minutes she says, “Look, I don’t really like standing around. I was walking this way, why don’t you join me.” Now she’s showing me she has a bit of goal-directed action with men that suggests a comfort with them. She’s also clearly amenable to the idea of being picked up without excessive coyness. More r.

The really big moment came two minutes into the walk, as we walked past a few outdoor cafes. I say “tell me a secret about you”

“I’m bisexual.”

Ding dong. Not only is she pro-actively broaching the topic of sex but she’s overtly signalling me that she’s sexually adventurous. This was a massive sign and I immediately decided – Go Full R. What does that mean?

It means make all your pick-up decisions based on fast exciting adventure sex rather than the well-rounded Most Interesting Man In The World. So don’t bother DHVing about teaching your nephews judo, or enjoying the challenge of a high-status financial career. Don’t bother saying you visit the town regularly and are thus a multi-date possibility for a slow-moving girl. Don’t go into detail on how you appreciate the writing style of Alexandre Dumas and how he constructed his novels. Fuck all that.

Fuck all that, yesterday

Instead you show that you are an experienced bad boy cad with a treasure trove of wild stories. Spike her and fill the conversation with innuendo and nuance. And then back off and show how calm and routine it is to pick up girls and fuck them. This is all in a days work because you’ve done it many times before. We sat in a patio bar and ordered a beer each. As she sat opposite me I sexualised the questions game quickly, asking what sexual thing she thought about but had never done (“I’d like to arrange an orgy”). I told her I liked her wide hips and it’s fun to press down on them when I’m fucking a girl. She was talking it all. Then it was time for my centrepiece DHV – doing coke and ecstasy with a porn star I’d picked up in Prague.

When I finished that story I saw her face change. It was clear as day, she suddenly had the “I’m going to fuck this guy” look of resolution. She’d made the decision.

“I have to meet a friend right now but we should meet tonight” she said. “No, we must meet tonight” she added, and took my number. After that it was freewheeling the car downhill. The whatsapp was just logistics and she came directly to my apartment.

It would’ve been easy to fuck this set up at any time in the first hour. If I’d mis-placed her as being K, my game would’ve given off the signals of third-date-sex and she’d be thinking “he’s not the type of guy I like to fuck” or “he’s not really the adventure guy”. That would’ve greatly increased the chances that she didn’t even return a text, never mind have sex. It’s not enough that a girl fancies you – she has to also place you within the category of men she could have sex with.

Rewind the tape and think how differently this could’ve gone if she’d showed me a different side. Let’s say she had well-cared-for straight hair in her natural colour, elegant mainstream fashion, and a brand name handbag. I’d have immediately scored her towards the K side. Then what if she’d said she was Italian and moved here with her parents because her dad is a diplomat at the Italian embassy? That says stable family and here by necessity rather than adventurous spirit. More K.

What if her secret had been “I like Justin Bieber’s music but can’t tell my friends or they’d laugh”. More K.

What if she’d never really thought about a sexual fantasy (that she’s willing to admit to a stranger) but now she thinks about it maybe she’d like to have sex on a beach in the caribbean. More K.

You can bet if she’d showed me all that K, it would’ve been the nephews judo DHV that came out in the bar. And it probably would’ve been a cafe, not a bar anyway. I’d have assumed a 2nd or 3rd date lay was the fastest possible unless something significant came up to suggest faster.

A generic middle-of-the-road some r / some K game strategy is the best option for an intermediate because it shows both sides to you and invites the girl to find something she likes in there. However, it’s sub-optimal as it also gives her reasons to reject you as unsuitable. Blindly going into every set either full-r or full-K is going to increase the volatility of your results because you’ll fail more but when you get lucky enough to match your level of r/K with hers it’ll juice the set nicely. The optimal strategy is to begin with an r/K mix and immediately probe where she sits on the spectrum so you can then tailor your proposition to her needs.

Two weeks after SDLing the Italian, she’d decline a booty call because she was on her period. That means, by inference, she was almost certainly in the ovulation phase when I initially stopped her. That’s good luck and confirms my pre-open Spider Sense tingle.

If you thought this post introduced new ideas, you should see my book. There’s still a few ideas in there un-ripped off. And a ton of other ideas I took from other people too.

Long-time readers will be painfully aware of my love-hate relationship to the capital city of Serbia. On the one hand I find the girls to be the hottest in the world (for my taste) – a non-stop parade of leggy greyhounds – and I’ve also had more success there then anywhere else. But on the other hand I fall into Groundhog Day and quickly tire of the same routine. It’s also a tough place to get laid. There’s not much of the fast adventure sex to be had. I allowed a couple of wings to twist my arm and showed up for nine days in early April.

Coming directly from Prague I was still nursing a come-down from my fuck-a-thon with one of Italy’s dirtiest porn stars. Waking up early for the Belgrade flight, I felt the last gusts of wind against my sails and then I was becalmed. Walking down to my apartment from the airport bus drop-off point at Slavia Square I was immediately reminded how different Prague and Belgrade are. Whereas Prague is a London-esque cornucopia of nationalities, sub-cultures and tourism the Serbian capital is a mono-culture where everyone dresses the same and nobody has any money. It felt like a 50% GDP-per-capita drop. I pressed on.

Some of the world’s hottest women live in these shitholes

I spent the whole of Day One with my head planted into a Boutique cafe table, barely able to keep my eyes open. An illness was coming on. I organised a late-night coffee date with a long game lead and it was fun. With the benefit of hindsight we shouldn’t have walked down to the river and sat on a bench for two hours at midnight. That was the final straw in breaking my health.

Sure enough I woke up the next day sneezing, itchy eyes, and strange dandruff-like flakes of skin falling from my cheeks. Unwilling to surrender the day, I tried a couple of approaches on Day Two but I could barely even string a sentence together. Day Three was worse and now my eyelids had puffed up like a boxer entering the twelfth round of a losing title bid. I sent a selfie to a few friends who freaked out at how odd my face looked (as opposed to usual). Day Four was rain which – as all keen Belgrade street gamers know – meant there wasn’t a soul on the streets. So you can imagine that by Sunday (Day Five) I was immensely frustrated – barely any approaches and my one solid number had been leaving to Slovenia. I’d been jinxed. I might as well have stayed in Newcastle playing Dark Souls.

Given that I’d fucked a porn star on Monday in Prague I also wondered if perhaps I’d caught HIV or some STD of the eyes. Another unsatisfying Belgrade experience was upon me. The illness seemed to fade a little on Sunday and I got a few sets done, plucking numbers from four sensationally beautiful women – the sort where fucking even one of them would be a lifetime accomplishment for all but the world’s highest SMV men.

“You are soooo confident! It’s great” said Petra.
“English people are just my cup of tea” cooed Andrea.
“Yes, we can have coffee” said Sevina
“Your accent is cute” said Milena.

Number close a flaky model

Unfortunately all four dropped off in the subsequent texting and I was reminded of the painful attrition that comes with red-lining it at the hottest women you can find. On the plus side my long game girl came out on Sunday evening after her exams. Including 2015, it would be our fourth date. She was nicely dolled up which bode well and as we sat on a sofa together in the basement of Zmaj cafe she had an odd vibe. I couldn’t put my finger on it but I sensed nervousness. Perhaps she’s decided this is the sex date, so long as I don’t fuck up? I tried to show her some YouTube videos on my phone, knowing full well that the free wifi was too slow and my mobile signal blocked. After several thwarted attempts to show her, I finally expressed my exasperation.

“Let’s just use my own wifi. I want to show you dogs doing backflips”

She wobbled a bit at my apartment door then came in. The final bedroom escalation took about an hour and wasn’t ever really in doubt. She just wanted to be coy and let herself be persuaded. As soon as I looked down her shirt and saw a brand new Victoria Secret’s type bra I knew she’d come to fuck.

“I have had a bad experience with sex” she told me beforehand, to explain her tenseness as my dick was whipped out. “I only slept with one guy and it was weird. I couldn’t really feel it.”

So I slotted another hot twenty year old. It was fairly good. She lay there sweating and panting on my bed, cheeks flushed.

“I think you felt that” I said.

Drop half a point

The remaining few days were also shit. I started to do good street work but just couldn’t get anything to stick. A few sets were absolutely awesome but just petered away to nothing in the texting. If I’d been living there a month I think a couple would’ve come through. That’s the problem with my one-week-one-city pattern: It inspires me to some fantastic tactical genius during that week, but it is strategic suicide. I hope the tactical improvements will pay off should I ever move my strategy towards one-month+ in a single town.

The final day was completely rained off so I just fucked the young greyhound again. That afternoon I was sitting under a cafe awning with her and two different regulars walked past and saw us. One laughed and the other turned her nose up.

Five days lost to illness and rain, four days of so-so street work. One lay with a YHT greyhound but it just didn’t feel like an achievement against the background of frustration.

I’m still beavering away on my soon-to-be-released new memoir. That means much of my creative energy for the “player’s life” writing is channeled into the book rather than the blog. Nonetheless I’ve had a pretty good five-day trip in Prague that just ended early this morning. Let’s recap how that went down.

Friday
I shuffle bleary-eyed out of Vaclav Havel airport and onto the 119 bus, a light drizzle greeting me. My usual landlady is waiting at her apartment building by Palladium mall in central Prague and she checks me in to a new place. It’s nice. Perfect location, nice lounge, good solid bed and most important of all…. a hot shower. I venture out for coffee and soon meet up with one of Prague’s resident daygamers. It’s still a bit nippy so I’m wearing my thermal under the t-shirt and a cardigan and leather jacket over it. We hit the streets. Mentally I’m fine but just lacking enthusiasm. The first few sets are quick blowouts.

It’s getting on the 6pm and my eighth set when I finally get a solid hook point from a girl who doesn’t have a boyfriend. Tall, blonde, twenty-year old Russian student. Spider sense is triggering so I take her to the patio cafe on the nearby Theatre. She settles in well and joins me for a beer at Chateau Rouge. Halfway through the drink it seems really on – she’s eye sparkling, gazing at my lips, allowing the kino. With smooth self-confidence I draw her in for a kiss.

“Come here” I beckon. She moves her face closer to mine.

“Closer” I command, and she comes closer still. I go for the kiss.

She suddenly short-circuits and pulls away. Denied. I try to salvage it with more comfort and a walk around the Old Town but she’s decided I’m not good for her. She wanders off without leaving her number. I wouldn’t call it four hours wasted – not with such a delightful girl – but it was most definitely frustrating.

Saturday
The sun has got it’s hat on and I’m coming out to play. A couple of Danish guys are in town doing daygame and a couple of travellers recognise me too and introduce themselves. All told, five different people stop me on the narrow strip from Palladium to New Yorker. I press on with my daygame and it’s going okay. Unfortunately I’m having bad luck – there’s always a boyfriend or husband or immediate flight home. I run diagnostics on the quality of my street game and I know it’s fine. Just need to keep plodding on. I’m very much focused on picking sets carefully, avoiding any blind opens. So all in I probably only do ten sets for the day. Mostly I’m enjoying the walk and watching with satisfaction as my pedometer app clicks off the kilometres.

Night cuts in around 8pm and I stop a cute Russian blonde on her way to a party. She’s visiting from Moscow to compete in an event and is now joining her team for an afterparty. They leave early the next morning. I try to get her to fuck off the party but no joy. So I street kiss close her. Haven’t done that in a while *

She takes her leave and I walk off with a smile. Less than fifteen metres and one minute later I stop a hot Russian student with flowing blonde hair. She’s keen and joins me for an idate. Unfortunately the clock is ticking because I’m meeting a Long Game virgin at 10pm. So I escalate the Russian a little in the bar and take her number. Then I rush to New Yorker to meet my evening date. The virgin stays over and wants to fuck. Unfortunately I just can’t get my dick in. It’s rather frustrating. I fall asleep.

Sunday
We try to fuck again in the morning but it’s just not possible – she’s too tight and sensitive. She goes off to study and I sleep in until 2pm. I wake up disorientated, knowing I have a first date at 3pm with a girl commuting in from her tiny Czech village. She was a number from my previous trip here. Village girl is on time and looking nice – a twenty year old. We have coffee at the same terrace cafe and a beer at the same Chateau Rouge. She’s only got two hours until her train home so I rush a bit trying to get her into my apartment. She refuses. So I walk her to a church and kiss close in the grounds then send her home.

Next is a date with the catwalk model I fucked on my previous trip. She’s been rather difficult to deal with over WhatsApp while I was back in Newcastle. My read is that she fancies me a lot but thinks I’m bad for her. She’s probably right. We go for a beer at a nice beatnik bar. She spends the first hour being difficult, breaking rapport, and acting like she’s friendzoning me. She spends the next hour with her tongue down my throat before rushing off to a house party.

I’m a little perturbed. That’s three hot twenty year olds I kissed today and no sex. I do a rage-open, my only set of the day, on a brunette standing outside McDonalds. Strangely she’s also twenty. She comes on an idate to Battalion bar where she tells me she used to do webcam masturbation for money. It’s going well until I ask:

“What do you like about me?”

“Nothing at all. You’re not my type” she says.

All of the sexual tension disappears and I realise she was just a time waster. I let her leave then I buy a Burger King milkshake and go home. It feels like Prague doesn’t want me to get laid.

Monday
I’m out solo for a while, deciding I should up my game a little. I still can’t find the right vibe or the right girls. One set goes great with a hot young blonde but then her brother comes over to cock-block. About seven sets in I’m thinking it’s just one of those bad days. Then I catch an IOI of a brunette and do a set that absolutely crackles with sexual tension. She’s looking at my lips constantly and I’m certain I could’ve kissed her there and then. But that would be dumb, so I take the number. I considered the idate but she said she’s going to meet friends.

For the first time all day my vibe is good and as I’m explaining something to my wing, I clap my hands in emphasis. A sultry brunette walking alongside me starts at the clap and glances my way. That’s my opener. After five minutes she says: “Are you going somewhere? We could walk a bit?”

We end up in Battalion bar again having a late-afternoon beer. Again the clock is ticking because I have a dinner date lined up with a regular for 8pm. So I have an hour to work and it’s going good. I figure the questions game is a quick way to move things along.

“Tell me a secret about you” I ask.

“I am a porn star” she says.

Oh.

As we finish our drinks she pipes up, “would you like to snort something with me tonight?”

We agree to meet at 11pm and I rush off to eat pasta at my regular’s house. I fuck her, shower, then rush back into central Prague to meet the porno girl. She’s on time and I walk her straight home. It’s a bit weird at first, she says “I’m only buying one bottle of beer, because I’m leaving in thirty minutes” but as soon as the coke is opened the mood seems to improve. I’m not telling you all the details. It’s enough to know I didn’t sleep a wink all night and I had an awful lot of sex with her. Including while watching her videos on the internet. That memory is likely to remain seared into my brain for years.

Tuesday
I’m an empty shell of a man all day. I stumble around, can’t eat, and just struggle with one hell of a comedown. I’m getting all philosophical, telling myself that I’m pretty sure that notches no longer motivate me, maybe I’ve fucked enough women, and video games look awfully appealing right now. Finally I go home and watch YouTube videos of 1980s pop songs all night. I need to be up early for my flight.

Lest you think this is my usual pattern, I’ll tell you now this was a rather volatile jaunt. Usually I get more steady results at each stage of the game, rather than this kind of feast-or-famine. Nonetheless, I’m pleased. Average age of girls I’ve notched this year is 20.5 which is exactly half my age. I doubt I’ll keep the average that low as the year progresses.